Hushed Willows come to me, my sweetest friend.

The yearling accepted the looks she got and kept still, watching as Harlyn snatched the branch and pranced about with it. Her bow was understood, but Grace stayed back and watched as her two babies lunged forward and took part. A few moments passed where the russet girl held her breath, deciding if she wanted to join or not. 
Eventually, a surge of puppy like energy overtook her charcoal paws. A playful growl rumbled through her chest, and with a smile she too came forward. A little slower, thanks to both nervousness and her gimpy leg, but she took a branch a few over from the little ones and snapped at the smaller parts to weed out the twigs she couldn't actually hold onto. A giggle built in her throat, spilling over, and Grace relaxed a little bit to have fun.